Newton's law of motion
by Calamity Janeway
Summary: Master Chief spends three long months on a ship, meets his match in an attractive doctor, and suffers an unbearable amount of angst over how he feels about her. Very strong M. Please review if you like this sort of thing.
1. The mysterious package

A few notes:

**What this story is and what it isn't:**

**This story is 100% lemon. **It contains adult themes and adult issues. If you aren't into foul language, s_x or those sorts of things, you won't like this fic. I love angst, I love confusion and I love the big deed. This is a slow burn. If you're looking for some sort of play-by-play battle story, you won't find it here. Carry on.

I don't know when this story takes place. It does not follow canon. I hope you can see it and appreciate it for what it is: a character piece about two adults - Master Chief and an OFC - rather than a play by the rulebook fic.

**On writing it: **I've been sitting on this fic for a while. It's pretty long, but I believe the payoffs (there are multiple) are well worth the read. I should also say that it's frustratingly difficult to write Master Chief. We know so little about him, heck - we barely know what he looks like, save scant details. So I've taken liberties here with him, his personality and so forth. I've written many LOST fics, mainly focusing on several characters, and those were far easier than writing this. Hopefully you'll enjoy this take.

**On ownership: **Master Chief and Halo are property of Bungie. I do not own Master Chief (which is terribly unfortunate because I could think of many interesting things to do with him if I did ;-)

**On reviews: **Throw them at me - I'm a big girl. Just know that this is my first fic on the site, so please refrain from insulting me personally, kicking my butt about not following Halo cannon, or just being an ssclown in the comments. Other than that, free reign. XD

So anyway, enjoy.

***

Dr. Cassidy Raines stumbled drunkenly into her soon-to-be-ex quarters, picked up her bags and shut off the lights. She walked over to the station's launch area.

Just put one foot in front of the other, she told herself. Dressed in a semi-low cut little black dress, high-heeled leather boots and carrying two large bags, it certainly wasn't easy.

Stepping as carefully as she could onto the ship, she walked into the pilot room, dropped her bags and collapsed into a jump seat. Her three-month voyage was about to begin.

She did not intend to board the ship buzzed as all hell and dressed to the nines, but the boisterous ladies and men who saw her off insisted she pound shots. She had no time to change clothing. It was quite irresponsible and she knew it, but nothing could be done about it now.

The pilot, a loud, mouthy woman named Jess who loved nothing more than a good time, was in even worse shape, as was the co-pilot, Mandy. Both giggled as they stumbled against the wall and nearly fell into their command seats at the front of the craft.

Dr. Raines had gotten to know these girls quite well over the last year – they were the main imbibers at her party despite joining her on the trip -- so she welcomed them with a huge smile.

"Don't tell me you two are going to pilot this ship while intoxicated," Cassidy said, suddenly feeling more than a bit alarmed.

"Shut up, bitch! This ship can practically drive itself!" Jess hooted.

"Are we picking up the package? When are we picking up the package?" Mandy asked anxiously.

"Yes, already. It's the first stop we're making, okay?" Jess hissed in an annoyed whisper. "Don't talk about the package until we leave the station. I don't need a million horny bitches trying to get on this damned ship!"

Whatever this mysterious package was, Dr. Raines didn't care to know about it, at least not at the moment. Space travel made her nervous. Anything beyond focusing on the comm panel and display window was more than she could bear.

As the engines started to hum and Jess ran down the launch checklist, Cassidy thought about how she landed this strange assignment.

The notice was very specific: Doctor of traditional battlefield medicine needed. Traditional medicine, as in old school. When she asked the station commander why in God's name they needed someone with a stethoscope on one of the most technologically advanced ships in the quadrant, she was told sheepishly that the medical tech tools – the healing chambers and hand scanners – tended to fritz out during space turbulence.

She took the assignment for two reasons. One, it sounded interesting, two, because they couldn't find anyone else on the station who could do the job. They practically begged her to go, and the money was more than good.

She closed her eyes as the ship slipped out of dock. After around forty minutes of engine thrust, Jess and Mandy turned on the autopilot, left for a bit and came back with three coffees.

"So, what is this package you're talking about? I'm curious," Cassidy asked, wiping a strand of glossy black, shoulder-length hair from her face.

"We're picking up someone special," Jess said. "Someone REALLY special. It's on a need-to-know basis - and you? You don't need to know."

Mandy burst out laughing, practically spilling coffee all over herself. She couldn't take it anymore.

"It's Master Chief!" she nearly shouted.

Master Chief. Man of legend. Savior of the galaxy. Cassidy had heard all the stories of his epic war hero, but the other ones, the stories of his…adventures off the battlefield, were passed around in equal measure.

This other lore was mainly discussed by female cadets and civilian women in hushed corners. She found these stories as laughable and believable as tales of Big Foot. They certainly couldn't all be true, she thought, could they?

Cassidy rolled her eyes and stirred her coffee nonchalantly. She said nothing.

"Hey!" Mandy whispered to Jess, pointing at Cassidy with a huge grin. "I'll bet the chief is going to looooove her."

"Don't get me involved in this, I want nothing to do with it," Cassidy barked, shocked. "I prefer brains over brawn, if you must know."

"Whatever," Mandy dismissed her with a wave, turning to Jess. "I'll bet you 20 credits that within three days, he'll have her bent over the…."

Suddenly there was a loud beep and a message on the communication console. Jess read it silently and let out a low, long whistle.

"What? What is it?" Mandy asked, alarmed.

"According to the med staff on the station, the Spartan hormone-suppression implants are failing across the board, and get this - it will take three fucking months before new ones are available."

"What does that mean?" Cassidy asked Jess, only vaguely familiar with the aggressive medical practice of suppressing Spartan sex drives. "I don't understand."

"It means things are going to get really interesting around here."


	2. A strictly biological reaction

There are people who think the fastest route of communication is inter-space messaging, but the smart ones know that juicy gossip moves twice as fast. As Cassidy walked down the hall to the mess to grab a soda, she was astonished to pass three small groups of women, all talking about the chief.

"Can you believe it?" one tall, busty woman squealed. "I can't wait to tell Anne about this!"

"I heard that one too!" a short blond cackled, holding her hands ten inches apart. "I'm serious!"

Civilian women were the main causes of the racket, while the Spartan girls at least tried to haughtily keep things low-key. But the energy crackling through the air was unmistakable.

Truth be told, anyone flying the military banner, regardless of looks or rank, had no chance. While the Chief had slept with Spartan women before, he generally avoided the practice and chose to share his bed with civilians - at least that's what Cassidy had overheard.

It made sense. A war hero has no time for rumors and innuendo. But that didn't stop the Spartan ladies from throwing themselves at him in less obvious ways.

The most common practice was inviting Master Chief to spar in the training room in the hopes that their rough and tumble play would land them in a sweaty, compromising, highly sexual position. He knew this game well. He avoided it.

Dr. Raines came back to the flight deck and sat down in the jump seat, strapping herself in. Jess told her that in a few minutes, they'd be on the ground and _he_ would be there.

Cassidy still hadn't changed out of her cocktail party attire, mainly because she hadn't gotten word on where her quarters were. And the outside bathrooms were tiny. Best not even attempt it.

She opened her medical bag by her feet and started cleaning her instruments. They looked absolutely arcane compared to what was available on the ship.

Soon there was a thud, a pause, and the mechanical hiss of the back bay door opening up.

"Here we go," Jess mumbled.

Cassidy stood up and walked toward the back of the ship. She had to be prepared to treat Master Chief if he was hurt. He was returning from a solo mission and Jess was already complaining that he constantly downplayed his injuries. She figured this time would be no exception. But so far, the med-tech equipment was still online.

Dr. Raines felt her pulse quicken. _Stop it,_ she told herself. _Be cool_.

The first thing she saw was his seven-foot tall silhouette, and she instantly realized that it didn't really matter how many stories had heard about his height and his body, she nearly gasped at how tall and built he was. Not even the armor could hide his muscular form. Something had to fill it.

She waited until he fully boarded, ducking the low doorway, his slow footsteps thudding against the metal floor. His armor was a canvas of plasma burns and shrapnel dents. Jess and Mandy stood beside her as he entered and saluted. Cassidy did no such thing. She was not military and it wasn't expected of her.

"Ladies," he nodded , speaking in a deep, slightly mechanical-sounding voice. "…and Jess."

"Oh, sod off," Jess said, pretending to be irritated. But within seconds, she had a large smile on her face. She was greeting an old friend. "Good to see you too."

Jess turned to Cassidy and delivered the news. The med-tech equipment had gone offline. Chief's HUD was reliable most of the time, but as part of new protocols, she had to conduct backup exam. Cassidy nodded, feeling a sudden burst of nervousness. This meant she would have to give him a traditional exam. She would have to…touch him.

She turned around and Jess and Mandy were gone. They had to get out of the hot zone as soon as possible. It was just her and the chief.

"I'm doctor Raines. It's time for your exam and injury check," she said, all-business, perching her work glasses on her nose. "Follow me."

"You don't look like a doctor," the chief said, a smirk in his voice.

She turned away, said nothing and felt her face redden. She had totally forgotten that she was still wearing her evening attire, her boots, and full makeup.

She was suddenly self-conscious.

As the chief walked behind her, she felt his eyes on her hourglass figure and her shapely butt. Just because he was wearing a helmet didn't mean she couldn't sense that.

She walked into the medical bay just off the bridge, her heels clacking on the floor. She shut the door behind them.

"I'll need to you take off your armor, please, and get undressed from the waist up," she said crisply, digging into her equipment bag.

"Fine. But I'll need your help," he said.

"Just take off what you can first," she said, waving him off.

She heard a soft hiss of air escaping and a small snapping sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his helmet set down on the bench near him. She rummaged through her bag, taking out various scopes, monitors, first aid equipment and swabs, placing them carefully on a tray. There were more sounds. Gauntlets fell onto the bench with a clinking sound. Gloves. Shoulder guards.

She noticed her hands shaking.

"Your turn," he said.

"I'm sorry?" She snapped up suddenly, his phrasing confusing her. Was he expecting her to….

"Chest plate?" he asked, amused.

"Oh, yes, sorry," she whipped around a little too quickly, nearly knocking her equipment off the tray. _He_ _must be enjoying this, God's gift and all_, she thought.

His hair was light brown, almost blond, short and a bit tousled and spiky from sweat and heat of the hot zone. His arms were a little pale, but were defined as chiseled marble, his muscles big, but not grotesquely so.

But his eyes and face – they were what really fascinated her. He had a strong jaw of a soldier – a leader - but a surprisingly sensual-looking, well-defined mouth. Perfectly sized - a mouth made for kissing. A small bit of 5 o'clock shadow covered his chin and lower cheek. His eyes were dark, deep and intense.

He looked older than she expected. Rugged. It was if he had aged a bit faster than his peers, thanks to many moons of combat, adrenaline rush and extraordinary pressure. She guessed he was close to 40, maybe older, but could not be sure.

Even with her high-heeled boots on, he still dwarfed her. On one hand, she was grateful for this. She did not want to make eye contact. On the other hand, she felt small and oddly exposed. She wasn't sure she was imagining it, but she could almost feel him studying her.

She stood in front of him, her head barely the height of his upper chest, not sure where to put her hands, what to unclasp.

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted it up, so she was forced to look at him.

"You start on top," he said slowly. "And then we can go from there."

_You start on top?_ she thought, flustered. W_as that….an innuendo? _ She wasn't sure. His delivery was deadpan, but it sure _felt_ like one.

He turned his back to her and she thanked every saint she could think of that he couldn't see her face burning. She struggled with the first clasp, but after that, each one opened easily.

Her brow furrowed, wondering what the hell was happening to her. _You are not attracted to him_, she repeated, ad nauseum, in her head.

She pulled open his cuirass and he took it off, pulling down his black body suit. She stood there, gently pressing, marveling at his smooth, taut back.

"Tell me if this hurts," she said.

His back was full of scars and a few bruises here and there, but beautiful nonetheless. She ran her soft hands lightly over it, pressing here and there, starting with his broad shoulders and moving all the way down to his lower back. She traced her fingers lightly on the ghosts of old wounds, wondering how he got them and where.

"Turn around, please," she said quietly.

He complied and stood before her, naked from the waist up, his chest a pale network of muscles. His stomach was a firm six-pack. She spent less time on his chest, mainly because she was feeling a little…warm…and her mind started wandering elsewhere…places she didn't want it to go.

She forced herself to snap back to her professional demeanor. She would now conduct an eye exam, checking for abnormal dilation, signs of brain injury, damage to the retinas and so forth.

The only problem was his height. She couldn't really half-kneel/half bend down in her dress, even if he was sitting down. Her dress was too short. The only option was to have him lay down on the bench, with her on her knees next to him. It seemed like the safest, least embarrassing way to do it.

"Lay down, please," she said, gesturing at the bench with her penlight.

Suddenly the ship rocked violently, she stumbled, catching herself, and a voice came over the comm system. It was Jess.

"Guys, it's going to get bumpy here for a bit."

_Fabulous_, she thought. Despite the first bump, she kneeled on the floor and positioned herself, as much as she could, above his face. Just as she turned the small light on, the ship jerked sideways again. She fell onto her hands and knees, her hair in her face.

As she pushed herself up again, jerking her dress down in the back, irritated, she realized that doing this eye exam later was not an option. Head wounds and concussions became very dangerous quickly. She had to do it now, no matter how inconvenient the circumstances were.

What happened next was so quick and disorienting, there was no time to stop it. The ship rocked violently, again, nearly knocking her down, hard.

The chief sat up, grabbed her by her hips, pulled her up and off her feet. He spread her legs so that she was straddling him. His powerful arms wrapped around her and he placed one hand firmly on the small of her back. In one swift, final motion, he jerked her forward, hard, so that she was firmly pressed against him.

"Here," he said brusquely. "Will this work?"

"Well, this is not exactly what I had in mind," she snapped, hoping a dose of attitude would mask her runaway hormones.

She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his strong, huge hands excited her with all their possibilities, that she was only narrowly resisting the primal urge to push her pelvis into his crotch plate. She had to hide it. She was already having enough problems dealing with it.

Cassidy could feel a wave of heat in her waist area and her heart pounded like she had just finished a 100 yard sprint. He could snap her in two if he wanted – he was extraordinarily powerful – and this excited her and terrified her in equal measure.

_Breathe_, she thought to herself. Just…._breathe_.

She realized, unfortunately, that her nipples were so hard they were nearly poking through the stretchy fabric of her dress. She was sure he could feel them against his bare skin.

The ship continued along its bumpy trajectory through the atmosphere. She found herself profoundly irritated that she was in this situation, but also relieved that he was holding her steady as the ship listed back and forth.

She did not need to check her panties. She could feel it. She was wet.

What was far worse, above all, was she could smell him. Between his powerful scent enveloping her, no doubt filled with potent pheromones, she began to feel dizzy. Not enough to pass out, but strong enough to give her a sizable dose of vertigo.

_This is purely a biological response_, _nothing more_, she thought. Nonetheless, it wasn't like her to feel this way about a man of his type. He was a war machine. She just didn't understand it.

She leaned back slightly, but he was so close now and her face was still inches from his, her full lips slightly open as she prepped to study his retinas. She took out her penlight and shined it into one eye.

He seemed to be staring, studying on her face, his eyes particularly fixated on her full lips.

"Focus on the light, please," she said sharply, irritated, moving to the next eye.

"You're cute when you're angry," he teased

It was the oldest pickup line in the book. On most women, especially those of the loose variety, it worked. But not her.

"Try to act professional, please," She snapped.

"You're blushing," he said, confidently, throwing her for a second.

"I am not," she hissed. "And if you think you can roll me with this simple-minded Romeo act, think again."

Suddenly all was calm. The shaking stopped, leaving a shocking, noticeable silence. She heard heavy breathing and realized, horrified, the sound was coming from her.

Jess came on the loudspeaker and told everyone the worst was over. Feel free to move about the ship and so forth.

As soon as Jess said this, Cassidy shot the chief the dirtiest look she could. She was a control freak. This whole scenario made her feel chaotic. It was as if her own body was rebelling against her mind. She would make sure it didn't happen again.

She squirmed out of his grasp and stood up, pulling her dress down in one sharp tug, her knees practically buckling beneath her.

"Are we done?" he asked.

"Yes. I've seen enough," she snapped. "You're fine."

He got up and put his gear back on, piece by piece.

She felt dizzy, discombobulated. Out of sorts.

He walked slowly to the door, turned around and stared at her for a second.

"See you later," he teased.

"I wouldn't bet on it," she said, mustering up a look of what she hoped was disgust.

Once he was gone, she sat down on the bench for a few seconds until the dizziness stopped. _Purely a biological response, _she told herself repeatedly.

She then picked up her bag, turned the corner, disappeared into the nearest bathroom and locked the door. She leaned back against it, her chest heaving. Her heart was nearly thumping out of her chest, her body warm and alert. She stayed in there a long time.

_I need a cigarette_, she thought.


	3. Nowhere to hide

"Everybody calm down!" Jess shouted to the 60-odd people crowded into the mess hall. Jess scheduled a special mandatory meeting for everyone on the ship. She paced with a large blade in her hand, slapping it against her other palm.

Cassidy scanned the crowd, grateful that she had a chance to change and tone down her makeup. She felt relaxed and comfortable. But she noticed someone was missing. The chief.

_He probably thinks he's above it all_, she thought.

"Listen up! I'm sure all of you know what's going on with the implants."

The crowd murmured in response.

"And I'm sure you understand what that means. If you don't, well, I'm not going to explain it to you. That's what your mommy and daddy are for."

People snickered here and there, but there were lots of covert glances, hungry looks and shielded smiles. People were already pairing up.

The door slid open and someone stood behind her. Cassidy could feel a towering presence. She looked around and saw women nearly salivating, men giving open stares of admiration. She did not need to turn around. She knew it was him.

"I'm going to look the other way on anything that happens over these three months, I won't say a word. But there are three conditions," Jess's voice boomed. "No pregnancies. No non-consensual nonsense. And most importantly, everything that happens on this ship, stays on this ship. No exceptions!"

Cassidy understood. This was a ship full of newly horny soldiers and attractive civilians. Things were bound to happen. No one needed rumors to start. If they did, most of the troops would face court-martial or worse. You could hear a pin drop.

"If anyone opens their mouth, if I hear a whisper of a rumor, I will hunt you down," Jess said, smiling wickedly and slapping the blade against her palm with a loud smack.

"Are we clear?"

There were nods all-around.

"Alcohol!" someone shouted from the corner, causing the crowd to crack up.

"And one more thing!" Jess shouted. "Stay the fuck out of my supply closet! If I catch you in there, you're getting a taste of my blade. Got it?"

Cassidy knew what was coming. It would be a free for all.

***

Cassidy stared at the sheet listing living quarter assignments, squinted, and found her name. She changed out of her dress in the tiny bathroom earlier, but it was horribly difficult. She felt like a contortionist.

She was looking forward to having real space to relax. She was exhausted. She needed sleep desperately.

She walked down the hall, found the door marked 2E, and pressed her palm against the door reader. The door slid open. She entered.

_Wow_, she thought, _this place is tiny_. It was not unlike a prison cell. A single bed, a small chair and table, and a tiny bathroom. So much for stretching out. She dropped her bags and sat on the bed, realizing that she hadn't eaten all day. She was famished.

She stepped out into the hall, her mind occupied, wondering what was on the menu that evening. Surely the food wouldn't be all that bad….

"Dr. Raines," a deep voice said. Cassidy jumped out of her thoughts to see the chief getting ready to enter his own room, his armor and helmet on but his cuirass unclasped so he could undress in private.

_Of course_, she thought, _of course his quarters are right next to mine._ She made a mental note to kill Jess in her sleep.

"Chief," she said breezily with a small nod. She picked up the pace and headed straight for the mess.

This was not what she wanted. She felt the best solution to her…fixation…was to avoid him. And on top of that, the walls between the two rooms were paper thin. She could hear everything, as could he.

_Everything_.


	4. Heat and vital signs

The Chief watched her walk quickly down the hall and out of view. He pressed his palm against the reader and assessed his quarters. A little small, but simple. No clutter. It was just how he liked it.

He put his bag down in the tiny closet and hung up his meager amount of clothes. They were pressed – even his T-shirts. He then laid down on the hard bed, his feet almost dangling over the edge. He was soon lost in thought.

He didn't need Jess or anyone else to tell him his implants were failing. He already struggled with them over the years, despite the help of doctors. His body tended to override them on occasion. Eventually the doctors gave up. The Chief realized that they numbed his formidable sex drive quite a bit, but couldn't stop it completely. He used a variety of techniques to keep it all under control.

But ever since he walked onto the ship, he felt…different, like he needed something. Not necessarily human contact or sex, but pleasure. Maybe intimacy? He wasn't sure.

_Be careful_, he warned himself. He wasn't naïve. He understood that to many of the women on the ship, he would be nothing more than an extremely prized notch in their belt. Something to brag about. One night of passion and the rumors would start.

Beyond that, he was well aware of the things said about him, the stories passed around about his "talents" in the bedroom, the crude remarks about his….size. Most of the time he blocked it all out, but to him, the reality was this: When you're kneeling behind a rock, staring down the scope of a sniper rifle in total silence, and you hear the loud whisper, "Oh my God. I'd give anything to fuck him right now," it made the whole thing impossible to ignore completely.

He had slept with a few Spartan women over the years. But they tended to be highly competitive in bed, domineering. Everything was a contest. Beyond that, their bodies tended to be almost masculine. Small breasts and muscles everywhere, with no curves to speak of. It wasn't what he was looking for.

Then there was the doctor.

He was not quite sure to make of her. It was not like him to flirt with innuendo or use his size to fluster women. But with her, he….enjoyed it.

She was a beautiful little firebrand, quick-tempered and sensually shaped, her dark eyes blazing and her cheeks turning bright red as he teased and toyed with her.

_Toyed with her_. Was that what he was doing?

He felt a certain tightness in his shorts, a warm rush of blood and an almost unbearable pressure. He was getting hard just thinking about her. He groaned internally, stuck a pillow over his face and tried to flood his mind with thoughts of war, stabbing grunts and throwing plasma grenades into hordes of howling brutes. Usually thinking of battle with those ugly monsters worked. Not this time.

He replayed the scenario in the med bay with alternative endings. Him kissing her deeply as she straddled his lap, him lifting her up, holding her legs so they wrapped against his waist. Setting her against the wall, hard, and making her moan as he pushed into her. He wondered what she tasted like. What she sounded like when she….

All these thoughts made him even harder. _I'm 43, not 13_, he reminded himself – not that it helped.

Maybe _she_ was toying with _him_.

And what made it worse was he was not really sure what she thought of him. Was she angry or turned on or both? Her body was warm, her eyes dilated, her hands a little shaky during the exam, but it could have been nervousness from the ship's turbulence. Or…maybe not.

She seemed to hold him in great disdain. She was impatient and dismissive. Cold. And that made him want her even more.

He could have any woman on this ship, save Jess, who was a self-professed lesbian. The other women were already trying to get him into their beds. He saw their sidelong glances, their strutting around the corridors, their girlish giggling. They weren't exactly subtle about it.

But he only wanted the one that seemed like she couldn't care less. He never felt such chemistry with a woman before.

_There's something else going on here_, his brain warned.

If he had his helmet on at the time of the exam, he could have viewed her vital signs – her heart rate, body temperature, etc. – through the HUD. But he doubted it would help in this particular scenario. Fear and arousal showed almost all the same symptoms. And he double-doubted that Cortana had ease-dropped on the exam….

He heard a soft beep. Cortana. He sat up and found her on her tiny display pod, arms crossed.

"Chief," she warned, doing the equivalent of walking in unexpectedly on the super soldier. The chief let it slide.

"I know," he groaned.

"Might I suggest meditation? Some bio-feedback techniques? You can't keep on like this – you know where this is going. I can help push her out of your mind…"

"Won't work," he said. "But thanks for offering."

Cortana put her hands on her hips, her face the mask of a concerned mother-figure.

He sat there, deep in thought, before speaking.

"Cortana…did you…during the…"

They were old friends. He didn't need to finish the sentence. He just needed to know.

"Yes," she stated flatly, a smile tugging at her mouth.

"And…." He said.

"And what?" Cortana asked as innocently as she could. She would make him ask. For once she was enjoying watching him squirm. It was an unfamiliar feeling. She liked it.

"Did you read her vitals? Did you…heatmap her?" he studied his fingers, a little embarrassed to even be asking.

"Yes," Cortana said. "What exactly are you asking…."

"You know damn well what I'm asking," he snapped, irritated at Cortana's little game. She could be so annoying sometimes, he thought.

"Oh. So you want to know if she was….aroused?"

He said nothing and nodded.

A holographic light display popped up on one of the walls, a human outline with the Doctor's body shape. Light red meant warm. Bright red meant very warm. Even a child could figure this one out.

Dark red blotches behind the ears, on her breasts and her nipples. Her pelvic area looked nearly volcanic. She was not only scared, she was turned on. Very, very turned on.

"Does this answer your question?," Cortana asked smugly. "You know, you shouldn't be using this technology to…"

He pressed a button on Cortana's pod display, cutting her off.

He laid back down on the bed, uncomfortable, a huge erection straining his shorts. He stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it. Part of him was extremely pleased. The other part of him was full of dread.

He put the pillow over his face once again. Things had suddenly become much more complicated. He hated that.


	5. Evasive maneuvers

For the next few days, Dr. Raines kept herself busy. She wanted to avoid the chief at all costs. He was in her head. She couldn't stop thinking about him.

She felt off, absent-minded. She kept forgetting things, getting lost in her own thoughts. She needed something to do, something that would keep her mind off him.

She used the time to treat the other patients, but found herself having to hunt down the work. The ship was mainly filled with the most healthy people in the universe. They ate well, worked out obsessively and barely faced any medical problems at all.

If she found her mind wandering, she walked out into the hall or mess, asked a soldier or civilian how they were feeling, and used any little complaint they had – from backaches to hair thinning – to schedule exams and fill her day.

It worked. She barely saw the chief. He came up to the front of the ship more than a few times, always in his full gear, helmet and all, but she miraculously was with a patient each time. She gave off the vibes that she was terribly busy. He got the message and never entered the med bay.

She avoided the gym, the training room, and even her quarters. She returned to her room very late at night, when she knew he was already asleep.

On the fourth day of this, Jess poked her head into the bay.

"Where have you been, bitch? I barely see you anymore," Jess asked.

"Oh, you know, lots of stuff to do. Keeping busy," she said nonchalantly.

"Bullshit," Jess said. "I know you. I know what you're doing."

_Busted. _

Cassidy was taken aback. Was it that obvious? If Jess knew, did he know? It annoyed her immensely to think he might know why she was MIA so much.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Cassidy said.

"Well, it seems obvious to me," Jess sniffed. "He's usually a hermit. Every time I turn around now, he's up at the front of the ship, asking silly questions…"

"You're insane!" Cassidy cut her off. "Maybe he's hanging around so he can find the opportunity to antagonize me. He seems to enjoy that."

"Or maybe he wants you to give him a private prostate exam!" Jess shrieked.

"You are a fucking child," Cassidy stated in disgust. "…and I have work to do."

"Fine, but just know that tonight is poker night. Be there or be square," she grinned.

"I'll be there, okay? But I'm not doing shots," Cassidy said firmly.

"Whatever," Jess rolled her eyes and walked out.


	6. Hustled

Cassidy figured out quickly that the mess was where most of the raucous behavior took place, the flirting, the drinking, the smoking, the flexing. It would be ground zero for poker playing, and she was extremely serious about the game.

_So many victims so little time,_ she told herself. She was a tremendously skilled poker player, a hustler. She spent countless hours playing the game during med school while waiting for exam results. By the time she graduated, she could whup anyone - anytime, anywhere.

She went back to her quarters briefly and changed into pants and a tight shirt that showed off her round, perky breasts, mainly to distract. She did her makeup but pulled her hair back in a tight ponytail, and put on a pair of large sunglasses with dark-as-night lenses. Dilated irises revealed a great hand. She wasn't falling for that one.

The one thing that delighted her was that the chief would not be there. As far as she had heard, he did not drink. He did not socialize. She could be relaxed, comfortable, and clean house without any distractions. She felt refreshed and optimistic.

She walked into the mess and found the partying was well underway. There was hooting and hollering, screams and laughter, and lots and lots of empty shot glasses. She quickly scanned the room.

No chief. Good.

She sat down next to Mandy, who was busy shuffling decks and passing out cards to whoever wanted them.

One by one, the group of players got smaller. Cassidy was repeatedly offered drinks, but she turned down every single one. The drinkers were always the first ones to drop out. They were easy marks.

There were eight players, then seven, then six, then five. At the end, it was just Cassidy and a baby faced Spartan, also in sunglasses. They volleyed back and forth. The stakes got higher and higher. She had a lot of money in her account so she was prepared to lose some.

It was the last hand of the night. She realized that at this point it had nothing to do with skill. It was all about luck and posturing. It could go either way….

Then the door opened. A hush filled the room.

All the Spartan men and women jumped up, suddenly sober, and saluted. The chief walked in slowly, in full armor, no doubt just after finishing a fierce training session.

"At ease," he said in his baritone voice.

His walk by was the longest moment she ever felt in her life. She looked up and acknowledged him with a slight, formal head nod. He responded in kind.

He seemed like he was going to head on to his quarters. He was almost to the door.

And then he stopped.

He turned around, walked back and stood behind the other player, who seemed terribly intimidated, his face turning ghostly white.

"I'd like to play the winner," the chief said, ignoring the soldier, his visor pointed right at her like a laser.

"Uh….yeah, sure," the baby-faced soldier said nervously.

The truth was, the chief was annoyed that she was so successful at avoiding him, and yet he found her, here, no doubt for hours. She looked amazing, entirely in control, but she was probably betting that he would not show up.

Now it was up to her. Cassidy could say no and the chief would know that he had gotten to her, or she could say yes and show him that she was not to be toyed with.

"Of course," she said after a long pause. "Play at your own risk."

"Well, I'm out," the young soldier said, laying down an extremely shitty hand. He seemed outwardly relieved. He did not want to play against the chief.

"Ooookay," Mandy said, grabbing the deck and shuffling it.

The chief sat down across from Cassidy and a large crowd gathered, full of excited chatter. There was a group-wide sense of disbelief. Most had seen him in battle, in full glory, but it never occurred to them that he would indulge in something miniscule like a card game.

"Why don't we move this over there," Cassidy pointed. She wasn't sure what would happen. She was already uncomfortable playing against him. They got up, moved to a table near the corner of the room and sat down across from each other. This gave them privacy, and the drinkers space and permission to carry on.

"Listen," she said quietly, leaning in toward him. "I'm fine matching up with you, but the HUD? The heat map? Turn it off."

"Why, because you're afraid I'll figure out what a poor bluffer you are?" he said wryly, leaning over the table. It felt like they were the only two people in the room.

"It's an unfair advantage and you know it," she said. "And besides, let me let you in on a little secret."

She waved him in and he leaned forward. He moved in, closing the space between them so that her face and his helmet were only inches apart. She looked through her sunglasses and into the yellow shine of his visor, at what she imagined was eye level.

"I?...I don't bluff," she said slowly, raising an eyebrow to drive the point home.

"It's funny you say that," the Chief said slowly. "Because I'm certain that the other day, you were bluffing."

She rolled her eyes and leaned back confidently, but inside she was all shaken up. _Don't lose your cool_, she told herself, _he's only trying to intimidate you_.

"Cards, please," she said loudly, reminding herself that it was just one hand. Mandy dealt and walked away.

_One game_, she told herself. She could handle it.

"So, what are the stakes? Because I don't need the money," she said haughtily.

She had already wiped out everyone worth playing. More than a few people were going to wake up tomorrow and kick themselves as they transferred credits to her account.

"Let's make it interesting. Personal," he said, after leaning in again. She did the same.

"If you win, I'll leave you alone," he said, just low enough so that only she could hear. "But if I win I get to see you."

"You've already seen me - I'm sitting right here in front of you," she said frostily.

"No," he said, his voice a low rumble. "_All _of you."

Her eyes widened behind her glasses. She looked around to see if she was the only one hearing this. Everyone else seemed lost in their own drinking and laughing. She looked at her hand. It was a good start. More than decent. The odds were on her side. Unless he had something spectacular, she could take him.

He, on the other hand, hadn't even scoped out his cards yet. _He is really taking liberties_, she thought.

"Fine," she said coldly. "I'm in."

She sat there silently, studying his armor. This will be quick. If he left her alone, it would make her life much easier. No more distractions. It would give her control. On the other hand, on the very slim chance that he did win, well, best not think about that, she told herself.

He looked at his cards and leaned in yet again.

"I'd like to raise the stakes," he said quietly.

"Who's bluffing now? You don't have a prayer of beating me," she scoffed.

"One kiss," he said.

She paused, considering it. She could handle that.

"Fine," she said after a pause. "If that's the way you get your rocks off."

"A _real_ kiss," he warned. "No cheating."

"Well, in that case, it's my turn to raise the stakes," she whispered. "From this point forward, you leave me alone -- when I want that. But the other times, _you're my slave_."

"Fine," he said, without hesitation.

"I think you need another card," she said, waiting for him to make his move.

"If I wanted it, I would take it," he said slowly. He wasn't talking about a card.

"I find that hard to believe," she smirked.

"You know it's true," he said, leaning in, dangerously close.

"If that was the truth, you wouldn't need a bet to get me to take my clothes off," she said.

"If I win, you won't be the one taking them off," he answered, without skipping a beat.

"Get a room already!" someone shouted from her left.

She said nothing, leaned back and studied her hand. It started out strong but ended with a resounding fail. He had flummoxed her and her luck had run out. She could barely make a hand.

She cursed herself but there was nothing left to do. There was no way she'd win and he was showing no signs of backing down. He obviously had a spectacular hand. He gave no indication of otherwise.

Surrender, she told herself, just surrender. She could pay back her debt in just a few minutes, an hour, tops. It would be over and she could try to move on.

She breathed in slowly.

"I'm….out," she said, laying her hand down.

He laughed. She had never heard that happen before. It was like whisky on silk, deep and seductive. A dirty laugh.

He laid down his cards. She glanced at them angrily. It was a junk hand. He had nothing, but now, all things considered, he had everything. He had beaten her at her own game.

He stood up, looking down at her. She stared right through him. He walked around the table, stood next to her, and leaned down so that he was right near her ear.

"Meet me at my quarters in one hour," he said. "And don't even think about being late."


	7. Collecting on a bet

Cassidy sat at the table for a while, silent. She was oblivious to the dirty looks from the women around her, the drunken carousing. She lost at her own game.

She stood up, in a daze, and started walking toward her quarters. Jess cut her off.

"You made his bed, now you have to lie in it," she cackled. "Enough with the foreplay - just fuck and get it over with."

_Foreplay_, Cassidy thought. _Is that what this was?_

Cassidy moved deftly past her and was in her room. She didn't remember even walking there. It was as if she had suddenly shown up, teleported.

She was not ashamed of her body. She worked out, not obsessively, but enough. She was by no means stick-thin like the other girls on the ship, her shape was decidedly feminine, but she was actually not really worried about the nudity. It was the kiss that was the question.

_One kiss. _

She sat down on her bed, her mind overloading. Soon she had 10 minutes before she had to knock on his door.

She brushed her hair absently and put on her boots and a simple wrap dress that would, she hoped, speed up the process. The thought of being alone with him, trapped with nowhere to hide, gave her a feeling she could not readily identify.

She stepped out into the hallway. There was a small gaggle of women standing at the side of the corridor, giggling and not even pretending that they belonged there.

"Find somewhere else to stand!" she shouted as she knocked on his door. She didn't stick around to see if they left. She heard a loud thud and footsteps. The door slid open and she walked in.

He was standing at the other end of the room, his back to her.

"Let's just get this over with, okay?" she snapped, irritated.

He turned around and she eyed him suspiciously. He was wearing a button up shirt, undone at the top, and slacks. His hair was damp, as if he had just showered. He said nothing. His face was serious, thoughtful. She had forgotten how handsome he was.

She was surprised to see him so…quiet. She expected him to leer at her, tease her. Instead he seemed as if he was wrestling with something internally, two lines deep in his brow. She was not sure what to make of it.

He sat down on the bed, hunched over, and tented his hands.

"I'm giving you a chance to back out," he said quietly. "You can leave if you'd like."

She walked over slowly, saying nothing. She sat down next to him on the bed, and looked down at the floor.

"No. You won fair and square," she said. "I was overconfident. Collect your prize."

For once, she seemed calm, shy, submissive. He brushed the hair from her face, studying a small smatter of freckles on her cheeks. He never noticed them before. He took both hands and placed them under her chin, turning her to face him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his deep brown eyes questioning, his forehead against hers.

She nodded silently.

And with that he leaned in, ever so slowly. She closed her eyes and felt his lips gently cover hers. He held them there, tentatively, tenderly. She felt a slow burn inside of her, aware of his enveloping presence, the scent of his skin.

He pushed her mouth open with his lips, his tongue slipping inside, gently probing, exploring her warm softness. She gasped and moaned, her breathing ragged, electrical pulses shooting up and down her spine.

_Ah, chemistry_, she thought, her mind running wild thinking of his powerful body above her, his hand between her legs first, and then his mouth…

He pulled back slowly and went back into her slightly open mouth even more sensually this time, his tongue dominating hers, teasing her. It was as if in a single kiss, he was telling her, showing her, all the possibilities of what could happen if she let him take her then and now.

_There's something more going on here_, her mind warned.

He broke the kiss and moved his hands into her hair, gripping it with a slight tension. She shivered. He moved his mouth so that it was next to her ear.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked quietly, into her ear, his breathing uneven.

_Oh, God,_ she thought, _that voice_. She had gotten used to hearing it from his visor, almost from a distance. But to hear him speak directly into her ear, with no mechanical feel and a completely open line of communication, it did things to her that she never thought possible.

He was seducing her with it and she was helpless to stop it.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked her again.

She closed her eyes as he began kissing her neckline, biting her lightly. _Point of no return_, she thought. _If this happens, there's never going back_. The most she could do is push aside her feelings, make it an explosive, powerful, carnal fuck, a one-shot that made him think that she cared nothing for him, only his body.

_Take control_, her mind screamed as he kissed her neck, tasting her skin, giving her goosebumps.

"No," she whispered, her heart nearly thumping out of her chest. "Don't… stop."

She moved away a bit and climbed up, into his lap, straddling him. She ground into his groin, feeling a tremendous hardness there, his enormous size. He moaned, surprised. She wrapped her arms around him, her hands on the nape of his neck, gripping it. Her eyes narrowed, looking into his.

"Fuck me, chief. Fuck me hard," she commanded.

He paused for a moment . This was not what he wanted. What he really wanted was to tell her how he was falling in love with her, how from the moment he saw her, he ached for her, and how he couldn't stop thinking of her. His training was going horribly, he barely ate.

He began to feel highly irritated. He knew what she was doing. She was making it seem like she was using him, even though he was nearly positive that she felt more for him than that.

But he would play along…for now. He would give her what she wanted, and then some. He had a narrow window of opportunity, in danger of sliding closed. He had to take it, even if the situation wasn't optimal.

"Fine," he said angrily. The anger would help him through it. She would probably get up and leave immediately afterward, coldly and dismissively. Maybe if he cheapened things, if he enjoyed her body and pushed his own feelings aside, he could forget about her and feel almost normal again. One could hope.

He lifted her up, one hand firmly on her ass, the other gripping her thigh. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He slammed her against the door with a loud thud.

"If you want that, I'll give it to you," he nearly growled.

They began kissing with more force this time, hungrily. She was shocked at the strength and dexterity of his tongue in contrast to the softness of his lips. He ravaged her with his mouth.

He reached down and lifted up her dress, and in one swift move and a snap, ripped her panties clean off, discarding them behind him. Her eyes widened. He pushed his fingers into her soft folds, feeling an enormous rush of wetness there. He looked into her eyes as she did this, not even hiding how angry he was.

He pushed one finger in her, then two, then three. She moaned and gasped loudly with each one, shuddering. Her nipples were stiff and standing at full attention.

She heard a zipping sound as he pulled himself out. He was ten inches at least and beyond hard, throbbing. He lifted her higher on the wall and held himself firmly at her wet entrance, teasing her with the head of his cock.

"I was going to take my time, I was going to make this easy," he said, his voice a low rumble. He was well aware of his size and the pain it caused. "But since you…."

"Just do it," she cut him off, breathing heavily.

He shoved himself inside of her, full force, and she cried out, long and loud as he filled her, nearly ripping her. It was an incredible burst of pain, a powerful feeling of pressure and pleasure and hurt. She was wet beyond belief, but even that could not temper the pain of his size.

"….it….hurts," she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut, her hair falling across her face.

"Well, if you weren't so tight…" he trailed off.

He was not going to last. Despite his irritation at her constantly fighting him, the anger he felt at her game, he could feel her from the inside now, closing in on him, soft and wet and warm. He continued plunging into her, hard, gritting his teeth as she cried out for more, building to an explosive orgasm.

She was close. He could feel it.

When she came, it was primal and explosive, her long moans and cries filling the room. He felt her shudder against his shaft, a warm rush of wetness, and her entire body stiffen as every muscle contracted.

She got what she wanted. Now it was his turn.

He groaned as he pushed into her, even harder, his hips punching forward and up. _Here it comes_, he thought, feeling his stomach muscles tighten, his cock nearly coming out and plunging in deep, again and again. He pushed in as far as he could go and exploded with one long, grunting moan, shooting deep into her. He pulsated for nearly a minute, shooting his seed into her over and over, his head falling back in ecstasy.

He rested his chin on her head as she panted heavily into his neck, his forehead pressed against the coldness of the door. They stayed there like that for a few minutes, him still inside of her, his mind memorizing the achingly soft moistness of her insides.

Once his heart stopped beating like it would fly out of his chest, he placed her down gently and looked at her. Her hair was disheveled, her body covered in sweat, her dress sticking to her, leaving little to the imagination. She was so beautiful, but he felt terrible inside.

He never wanted to hurt her, physically or otherwise, but he felt she had forced his hand.

He turned away from her, leaving her against the door. He didn't do it to cause her pain - he was having trouble hiding his emotions. He cursed himself and wished he had is visor on.

"You can go now," he said quietly.

The next thing he heard was the door sliding shut.

He laid in bed for a long time, full of hurt. He could still smell her on him, her natural scent, her sweat and a faint whisp of perfume_. If only she would stop fighting me_, his brain screamed.

He could hear her walking in her room, the soft sound of her sitting down on her bed.

After a long silence, he heard a muffled, quiet sound of…crying? Was she crying? He put his ear to the wall and confirmed it. It gutted him.

He felt terribly compelled all of a sudden to go to her room, say he was sorry. To wipe away her tears and hold her, to make love to her like he wanted to, passionately and slowly and patiently.

He opened the door and checked the hallway for spectators. Everyone was gone. Good, he thought.

He knocked on her door, quietly. He could hear her shuffling around inside, and it was quiet for a few seconds. Then the door slid open.

She looked at him and said nothing, her face dry, but her eyes red. She had wiped off all the tears. She didn't seem cold like she usually was, but tired and preoccupied, not really looking at him.

"I…." he said. "…I'm sorry, please, let me…"

"I need to go to sleep," she stated, dazed. "I have an early morning…"

She was distancing herself from him again, shutting him out. It was a feeling he was well familiar with. He did it countless times, just to keep his team together. He mourned in private, in isolation. And now she was doing the same to him.

He nodded sadly and walked back into his room, defeated, the door sliding shut behind him. She had closed herself off from him. There was nothing he could do about it now.

Cortana materialized and stood there quietly on her pod, her purple glow illuminating the dark room like a candle. She always seemed to know when he was down.

He said nothing and sat up, staring at the floor.

"Chief," she said softly. "I warned you about this."

He sat silently, his face tense, worried. He blew it.

"I need to be alone," he said.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked quietly, concerned. She had seen him down before, discouraged, but never about a woman, and never this full of angst.

"I'm fine," he said sharply, shutting off the pod. He sat there for a long time in the darkness, half replaying the entire incident in his head, half cursing himself for obsessing over it.

Eventually laid back and fell into a fitful sleep. He would find her tomorrow. He would tell her how he really felt.


	8. Mixed signals

Cassidy didn't sleep a wink that night. She cried softly, conflicted about everything. Her mind nagged at her, over and over again, screaming at her that it was all more than sex. That she…._loved him_. She didn't understand how that could possibly be.

She barely knew him. She could not have fallen that hard, that fast. It was unlike her. Building trust with her was a long, often frustrating process. Many men had given up. But for some reason he hadn't. He continued on, seeking her out, making everything she felt so mixed up and chaotic.

On one hand, he irritated her with his swagger and confidence. On the other, she wondered for hours what it would be like to make love to him, to call him by his real name. She felt like he knew her, really knew her. It simultaneously exhilarated her and terrified her.

But above all she was afraid to love him because he was a soldier. He could leave on a mission and die alone in the middle of a savage horde of monsters. She had lost men before. It nearly broke her. She could not go through that again.

She got up well before 5 am, her entire body sore. She showered quietly, dressed and left. She knew his routine by now. He liked order, discipline. Unless did something unexpected, broke from his usual routine, she could disappear.

-------------

A few days later, Jess briefed the soldiers in the mess hall. They gathered around her, the chief standing in the back, suited up, towering above all. They would make an unexpected trip into a hot zone. Recon showed it was crawling with covenant. Brutes galore. Elites. Jackals and those annoying little grunts.

For once the chief was relieved to go into battle. It would keep his mind off things. It would keep his mind off her.

Not that it really mattered. He had barely seen her since that night. Every time he went to look for her, it seemed she was somewhere else. It was as if he saw just a flash of her as she hurried around a corner or into a door, he approached and she was gone.

She was so good at hiding. And even if he had found her, he wasn't sure what he would say to her.

He spent most of his hours after that night suited up, sparring and training. He avoided his quarters as much as possible. He knew she wasn't in hers. Sitting in his tiny room made him emotional, giving him too much time to think.

When he trained those few days, the only woman he took on was Jess. She was more than up for it, a skilled fighter but a victim of her own success. If she wasn't so good at flying ships, she'd be out there on the field, stabbing and throwing grenades and blasting away with reckless abandon.

Jess chided him for his slow reflexes, miscalculations and inattentive fighting. It was as if he was only partially there. She asked him what was wrong – saying that she had never seen him like this before, but he stayed silent until she left him there, giving up.

In 30 minutes or so they would land, run out of the back bay doors, find cover, snipe, and then enter the theater, guns blazing. He went back to his quarters and took inventory of his equipment. He would find Jess to close his chest plate in the back. She knew what to do.

He never went without his armor outside his quarters and very few had seen his face. Jess had seen it once, and Miranda Keyes, the women he shared a bed with, and the doctor.

The doctor.

If it had been anyone else on that day giving him an exam, he would've never removed his visor. He did it because he wanted to see her without the tinted viewplate of his helmet. He felt that revealing his face was something he considered deeply private, but it was a small price to pay for a few moments he had to absorb and admire the soft curve of her lips, her dusky eyelashes, and the faint flush on her cheeks.

But this time, as he readied for battle, hiding his face was even more meaningful. He felt irritable and anxious, like he was forgetting something. There was no sense in alarming the other soldiers. He wanted to keep that to himself. Their mood would be set by his.


	9. Waving the white flag

He went to the front of the ship and waited quietly for Jess to finish punching in buttons on the console.

Jess turned around and said nothing.

He turned his back away from the display window and waited patiently as stood up and closed various clasps and casings.

Then he heard a voice. _Her_ voice. He hadn't heard it in days.

"Jess, I need you to…" she rushed around the corner and stopped. Her work glasses were perched on her nose, her doctor's coat open.

"Dr. Raines," he said formally, hoping his voice masked his feelings for her.

"Master Chief," she said crisply, looking up at his visor, but only briefly. Neither one said a word after that.

_Ummm, Awkward_? Jess thought. She turned back to her console.

"All done, Chief," she said.

Cassidy stammered and finished her sentence.

"Jess, can you check the power in the med bay? It's been a little touchy this morning," Cassidy said.

"I'll do it now."

"Thanks."

Cassidy turned around, leaving the chief and Jess behind her. She went into the medical bay. In a few hours, the troops would be on the ground and in great danger. She needed to prepare just in case there were casualties. She prepped her equipment.

She heard him walk in after her, his metal steps unmistakable, and then the door closing. She kept her back to him.

"I need to talk to you," the chief said.

"I'm sorry, I'm really busy right now…." She said, dismissing him.

He placed a gloved hand on her shoulder and turned her around gently. He peered down at her through his visor, leaning over, like a giant staring at a small child.

"It's important," he said, an urgency in his voice.

"Go ahead," she said.

"I…," he stopped, exasperated. Once he said it, there would be no going back.

"You what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Something's going on between us, I know you can feel it," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said shocked. "I've barely seen you and I've been…"

"….avoiding me," he said.

"I'm just trying to do my job. After that night, I figured it was best to leave you alone and…."

"Quit pretending. I know you've thought about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, angrily.

She pointed her finger inches from his visor. He had never seen her like that. She was explosive.

"If that is your way of displaying affection, illustrating that you care about me….that something else is at work here…you have a funny way of showing it. Why claim me through a card game?" she continued, angry words rapidly tumbling out of her mouth.

"You only wanted me because you couldn't have me. I'm not one of these wanton girls, waiting for you to pass by, diddling myself at night thinking about you…"

"Stop!" his voice boomed, he put his hands on her shoulders and held her there.

"You know exactly why I did it," he said.

"Don't say it…don't say it," she warned, her chest tightening so she could barely breathe.

"I did it because I'm in love with you," he said quietly.

She stood there, her feet stuck to the floor. It was too much to handle. Having an almost saint-like figure, wanted desperately by women, admired by men, tell you he's in love with you, was not something one experiences every day. She could not bear to even think of the weight of it all, the gravity of those words.

So she fell back to her old defenses. She would hurt him. Cut him off. End this all for good.

"How…_juvenile_," she said, ripping herself from his grasp and turning her back to him. "_You don't even know me_."

The chief was boiling inside. He hadn't felt this furious in a long time. He had felt real rage, over and over, each time a soldier fell to the most evil monsters on the planet. But that was nothing compared to now.

He had just laid himself out for her, completely vulnerable, and she took his heart and stomped on it. He had never, ever told a woman he loved her before. He had felt intimacy, and companionship, and occasionally happiness in the bed of a woman, but nothing like this.

He snapped his helmet release and ripped it off his head angrily. He stomped over to her angrily. He picked her up and sat her down on the bench. He kneeled in front of her, his face at eye level.

"What are you doing? Why are you…" she whispered, angrily.

"Shut up," he growled.

Her eyes widened, luminous. He could feel her body shaking, her breathing uneven, ragged. And he didn't care.

He pushed his mouth onto hers, kissing her not with forth, but heartbreaking tenderness. Her breath caught in her throat and she sighed softly into his mouth. It was different this time, slower. It was not a teasing kiss, nor a forceful one, but a gentle declaration of love and…need.

"Do you need me to show you?" he said desperately, his gloved hands holding her chin, kissing her over and over.

"Do you need me to prove it to you?"

She was shaken to her core, every cell alive and vibrating. Feverish in her want. _Surrender_, her brain told her again and again, _surrender_.

"I….," she whispered softly into his mouth, tears running down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, John. I tried to tell myself that this was nothing more than a fixation. But…I….I…love you. I need you to know this."

It was a time of firsts. The first time she told him she loved him, the first time he kissed her with such unbelievable tenderness, and the first time she called him by his real name, his birth name. He was no longer chief to her, but a great and giant love, a love vast and deep and tremendous in its purity. It shook her down to her very soul.

And then there was the sound of someone clearing their throat. They both jumped, startled, embarrassed, breathing heavily.

"Uh, Chief?" Jess said, looking at the floor. "It's time to go."

"I need a minute," the chief mumbled.

"That's all you've got," Jess smiled. "Wrap it up."

The chief moved in, gave Cassidy one last, brief, soft kiss and stood up straight. He put on his helmet and snapped it shut. She stood there for a moment, after he left. She wanted to go back to her bunk and process it all. Alone. But there was no time for that now. She had to get ready to treat the wounded.

Jess came back to the front of the ship and sat down, a huge smile on her face.

"What? What happened?" Mandy asked.

"I just caught the chief and Cass in the med-lab," she laughed.

"What were they doing?" Mandy asked impatiently.

"Well, let me put it this way," Jess smirked. "They weren't counting gauze wraps."


	10. Confirmation and old scars

Cassidy felt nauseous and more than a bit fidgety. She could hear the chief communicating with Jess, giving her recon. He was all business.

There were loud explosions in the background. Cursing. The roaring, evil sounds of aliens as their lifeblood exploded out of them.

The minutes seemed like hours. After a long time of total silence, she heard his voice on the comm.

"It's over," he said. "Come and get us."

"Stand by," Jess responded, breathing a sigh of relief.

The ride in was bumpier than ever before. Cassidy's face was ghost white. She stumbled into the medical bay and waited for the shaking to stop.

The ship landed with a hard thump. She heard the bay open and peeked around the doorway. Ten male and female Spartans, battle-weary but in good spirits, jumped aboard.

He boarded last, slowly, his armor covered in black plasma burns and needler scrapes.

"This way!" Cassidy shouted at the troops. One by one they lined up by the door. She saw him and desperately wanted to check him first – he seemed to have the most damaged armor – but he motioned that he would be the last one she would see. Typical, she thought.

She hurried through and examined everyone. She admitted she could have done a more thorough job, but everyone seemed alert, pumped up and filled with adrenaline. She treated one small neck wound, no more than a scratch, and the last soldier left the bay.

But where was the chief? He never showed. She came out and asked Jess about him. Jess just shrugged. She helped him take off his chestplate, and the last she saw he was headed to his quarters.

Strange, Cassidy thought. Very strange.

She walked quickly down the hallway, past the hollering, drinking soldiers in the mess.

She stood by his door and put her ear to it. Silence. She thought about knocking, but maybe he wanted to be alone. She could respect that.

She walked into her own quarters, brushed her teeth and sat down on the bed, changing into a thin, silky nightgown.

She was finally alone. She wanted to relive what happened in the bay, but she was exhausted. She laid down and fell asleep, this time deep and peaceful, her last thoughts wondering what he was doing.

It seemed like she was only asleep for minutes. Or was it hours? She awoke slowly at what she thought was a soft knock at the door. She waited, heard nothing, and put her head back down, thinking she had imagined it.

Then she heard it again.

She put on her robe and pushed the panel to open the door. It was the Chief. He was still wearing his battle-bashed armor and helmet. He smelled of smoke.

"Dr. Raines," he said, formally.

She wondered what that was about, and then she saw a few Spartan soldiers lingering nearby. She would play along.

"Master Chief," she said with faux irritation. "You forgot to come in for your injury check."

He turned around and stared back at the looky loos. They immediately hustled down the hallway.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, stepping aside.

He began taking off his things, ever so carefully, setting it everything next to the bed. She silently unclasped and opened things, putting them down, helping him. She ran her hands along the muscles of his back, checking for wounds, as he removed armor from his thighs and his feet. It seemed more meaningful this time, as if shedding his equipment was akin to shedding the memory of the last battle. Almost ceremonial.

She jumped up and walked toward one of her small cabinets, asking him if he wanted something to drink. Surely he must be thirsty, she thought.

He sat down on the bed and looked at her.

"Come here," he said quietly.

She sat down next to him and he turned and laid her down gently on the bed. He climbed over her, above her, and began kissing her, deeply. He gently sucked on the soft, fleshy part of the top of her lips, a sensuous tease, drawing a quiet moan from her of surrender.

He slid his lips across hers as he gently pulled the hem of her silk nightgown up, ever so slowly, as if he was unveiling a beautiful gift. She raised her hands above her head and arched her back, and he pulled it up so that it draped across her neckline, exposing her full breasts and erect, pink nipples.

He slid down a bit and cupped them with his hands, his tongue and lips circling her nipples, sucking gently and teasing her, sending electric shocks along her back and across the nape of her neck.

His hand moved down, across her stomach and into her panties, him gently pushing her legs open to gain better access. She cried out, gasping, as his fingers teased her. He kissed her again and moaned when he felt how wet she was for him.

He slid her silk panties down her leg, slowly, and off of her. He spread her legs and delicately kissed her inner thigh.

He would finally get to taste her. It was something he had thought about and imagined, sometimes obsessively. Her eyes squeezed shut. She arched her back again, her arms stretched above her head, as he savored her, feasting on her.

She was amazed at how skilled he was, how oral he was. His perfect lips applied just the right amount of pressure, his tongue just the right amount of tease. She could vaguely feel his hand splayed across her lower stomach. As soon as she felt a strong build up to a climax, he slowed down his pace, drawing her back from the abyss.

She was not aware of time itself, how long he did this, or how many moments she stood on the precipice of a powerful orgasm before he pulled her back until her desperate moaning turned to just uneven breathing and sighs. She came so close at one point, so close, but instead of letting her come, he climbed up again, over her, and kissed her.

"Not yet," he said.

He was naked now, fully erect, she could feel his stiffness against her thigh. He slipped the head of his cock into her wet tightness, but this time he pushed slowly, patiently, asking her frequently if she wanted him to stop or needed him to slow down. He said sorry way too many times. He knew he was big. He wanted to make sure he pushed in slowly to minimize the hurt.

He was finally deep inside her now and she wrapped her legs around him, moaning his name over and over. He pulled her arms above her head, holding her hands there, kissing her deeply as if she was a passionate captive.

He had never called her anything but Dr. Raines, but for the first time he called her by her name and it rolled easily and naturally off his tongue. The aroma of sex filled the room, an orgy of pheromones and biological excitement, making everything feel more intense, more urgent.

He had to slow himself down several times. His natural instinct was to punch into her, quickly, with tremendous force. Instead he forced himself to slide slowly and deeply into her, his shape and size molding her insides, making her his.

It was getting harder and harder for him to resist going faster, deeper. She was slick and tight and hot inside, closing in around him and massaging his shaft. He stretched his neck above her head, eyes closed, his face tense.

As he slid in and out, deeper each time, he suddenly became alarmed that he would come before she did. She would let him, he knew this, but he wanted desperately to hear her climax, to see her face when she did, to feel her body shudder. Last time he was so angry he missed seeing it. But not this time, he would make sure of it.

She moaned loudly, gasping, telling him she was going to come. She could have said nothing - he could tell by the sounds she made against his neck and the urgent way she moved her pelvis up and against him, making him go in even deeper, that she was close. It was just a matter of hanging on until it happened.

I'm not going to last, he thought, I'm not going to last.

"John…" she moaned, over and over, louder and more desperate each time. "Almost….there…"

"You'd better….hurry up…." He gasped into her open mouth, warning her.

With that she cried out with such volume and passion that it surprised him, her whole body shaking, her fingers digging into the back of his neck.

He was certain that anyone within a 50 foot radius could hear her come, and for once he didn't care. He could feel every pulse as her muscles tightened and wrapped around him, the sensation sparking his nerve endings, driving him to his own tremendous climax. He felt a new rush of wetness inside her and on him, a completely different texture, and he slid deeper into her now without any resistance at all.

She pulled his head down and put her mouth near his ear.

"John," she gasped, a smile in her voice. "John….just come."

The next minute of John-117's life was not entirely unlike a slow-yet-fiery explosion of a plasma grenade. Waves and waves of pleasure and almost unbearable sensation washed over him, through him.

He pushed in so hard that he thought he would break her, moaning primaly as fluid shot out, over and over again. His heart thumped so urgently and rapidly in his chest that he was afraid he was going to pass out. Thankfully, he didn't. Now that…that would be embarrassing.

It took a long time after that to calm down. He finally collapsed on top of her, forgetting for once how big and heavy he was.

"Can't…breathe…." she gasped somewhere near the base of his neck. He shifted and laid on his back, pulled her onto him, her body flat and limp against his chest and stomach.

"Better….much better," she sighed.

They laid in the darkness listening to the soft hum of the ship, her fingers tracing circles on his chest, feeling his scars.

"Where did you get this one?," she asked of each wound.

He told her, as best as he could remember, how each came to be. Each time he downplayed his role, giving more credit to his soldiers than himself, but she could see through that. Those victories were his, no matter how he painted them.

She found one scar that was especially long and wavy on his lower stomach, and she quickly became fascinated by it.

"What about this one? It's pretty big," she wondered out loud.

"I'm not sayin," he said firmly.

"Ouch!" she said in mock protest. "So….it's okay to fuck me into another dimension, but not tell me about some weird scar on your stomach? As a certified medical professional, it would be terribly irresponsible if I failed to investigate such a mysterious wound."

"No way," he said.

"Come on! I promise not to tell," she pleaded. "What was it? Energy sword? Needler?"

Surely there was some glorious battle story behind it, with him fighting solo against 10 elites, bullets running out, and only a grenade and his handgun standing between life and death.

She sat up on his stomach, straddling him, looking down at him and giving him large, luminous, highly persuasive eyes. He reached up and ran his hand through her hair. She's so beautiful, he thought.

"Please tell me," she said quietly.

He had two choices: he could keep the mystery to himself and tell her how he got the scar. She was right, though, he admitted to himself. After they traded declarations of love – as well as fluids – he really had no justification for keeping it from her.

"Okay! Okay!" he snapped, pretending to be annoyed.

He mumbled something, incoherent.

"I'm sorry, come again?" she asked. "I didn't hear what you said…"

He sighed deeply. _This is going to be embarrassing_, he thought. His face turned red and he avoided eye contact with her.

"Just tell me already…jeez..enough with the windup….."

_Time to man up,_ he told himself, _just get it over with._

"Grifball," he said sheepishly. "I got it playing Grifball."


End file.
